The Most Omnipotent Thing
by smileandbehappy
Summary: When Tari wanders a little too far into the mysterious forest near her home, not only does she discover the handsome Rubin, but also uncovers secrets beyond comprehension, that could destroy all she knows... Sorry- this summary is rubbish!
1. Chapter 1

**Ok, so this is my first story- I'm only going to keep on adding if I get reviews that tell me it's ok... so PLEASE review- I need some constructive criticism to keep me motivated. Ha ha.**

**I own all these characters, by the way. It should turn out to be a mixture of fairytale, romance and adventure- so enjoy!**

The Most Omnipotent Thing.

Prologue

The dark forest was mysteriously silent. No sunlight reached the forest floor, no breeze whistled through the crisp leaves.

His erratic heartbeat was the only sound, as he crept through the forest, constantly watching, constantly checking behind him.

Everything about him spelt out his wealth and status, from the shiny leather boots on his feet, to the velvet green cap perched at a jaunty angle upon his head, an extravagant feather curling up into the air. At his side hung a sword, the hilt jewelled and engraved with mysterious patterns and designs.

To any educated person, it would be evident that the young man was noble, but to any person experienced in life, it would be obvious that he was hopelessly lost.

His horse had spooked on a hunting trip somewhere in the sparser areas of the forest, throwing him off after galloping upon thundering hooves far away from the others he had ridden with.

Of course, his body guards and his father had ridden after the horse, calling his name, but they had not heard his shout in reply, and had raced off in the opposite direction.

He had been wandering on for hours, his bearings long gone, his mind confused.

His picked his way through the trees, stepping over winding roots, ducking swiftly under hanging branches, his motivation to get home overcoming his weakening spirits.

Suddenly, the thick trunks became thinner and less dense, and his morale rose sky high.

He thought: I've reached the edge of the forest! I can find my way home!

For a brief moment, his strength renewed itself, his worries dissolved, and he ran, as fast as his aching feet could carry him. Faster and faster, the pain in his legs numbed out by hope.

Abruptly, his feet slipped from beneath him, and he collapsed onto the floor, lying on his back, with his head dangling into a small ditch. He rolled over, attempting to get back up to his feet.

SPLASH!

His entire body slid into a small pool to his left, the like of which he had never seen before.

This was no ordinary pool.

The water was red, crimson red.

As he sunk beneath the choppy scarlet surface, his eyes flew open, and he saw, to his horror, hundreds of black creatures swimming hurriedly towards him, white fang-like teeth bared inches from his face.

The pool was ludicrously deep, it went down fathoms and fathoms deeper than the deepest valley he had seen, the bottom darkening to dark red until he could make hardly anything out.

He panicked as the creatures encircled him, his breath burning in his lungs, a faint ringing noise echoing in his ears. He fought with every breath to reach the surface, then suddenly...

Something emerged from the water, red droplets dribbling from every point on it's body.

It looked vaguely like a man, dressed in flowing red robes and a tall pointed red hat. His face was wrinkled, and he had a beard as red as the water, and wiry hair of the same colour, which reached half way down his back in slight waves.

He eyes were narrowed and red, his mouth fixed in an evil leer of a grin.

He stepped forward, and strode through the forest, the trees melting before him as if they simply were not there.

The pool lay still as he departed, but slowly, something rose up to the surface.

It was a velvet cap, with a matching feather in it, which now looked bedraggled and dejected. It bobbed up and down on a few small waves, then sunk back down, all traces of it vanishing in the murky depths of the water.

The pool became deathly still once more...

**Well, that's all for today- if you want more, please review! Thank you for reading this.**

**xxx**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter One

My fingers were aching in the cold wind as I gripped my little axe tightly.

Thwack.

I chopped firmly at the thin tree and it fell with a creak to the floor. Crouching next to it, I stripped the small branches from the trunk, a procedure I had grown so used to that I barely needed to open my eyes to complete the process.

As I squatted there, wrapping my woollen cloak more snugly across my shoulders, my nimble fingers working fast, I could not help but glance, past the wheelbarrow full of logs I'd already cut, past the land set aside for growing vegetables, all the way back to the distant square building that was my home.

A pinprick of light flared in the lower half, so tiny I had to squint to see it. I knew this light so well, I did not give it another glance.

It meant my mother was in the kitchen- but, more depressingly, that I had around another half an hour left to go before someone called me in for dinner.

I sighed. It was through my own inability to perform the tasks that my sisters could could, that I had ended up doing this chore, chopping wood all day long. I began at nine, and ended at four, with a quick break for lunch at noon.

In the summer, I stayed out for longer, the lighter sky enabling me to pick out suitable blocks for my father to carve shapes from, still chopping logs, for here, even the summer had a frosty chill.

I was the second youngest of five daughters, and we were, by trade, peasant farmers, though we had several sidelines.

We were poor- of course we were- we had little fertile land and we could not afford to leave any fallow, so our crops were pitiful affairs. My father's own theory upon the minuteness of the vegetables was that it had something to do with the dense forest that we lived on the brink of. It was too thick to make a path through, too robust to chop down, though the sparser trees around were the ones I used for logs.

Three of my four sisters were married, but only one had left home. Two of my brothers-in-law lived in our house with us, so I suppose they probably should have been the ones to chop the endless supplies of wood our family required.

And, had they been idle, I'm sure they would have done. I'm not trying to make out that my family were a bunch of tyrants- not at all. In fact, they were the most loving people I could imagine. They were concerned about me, but I was too stubborn to admit that the wood chopping and the mind numbing boredom coupled with it was too much for me- after all, I had been the one nagging to have a go at it.

Besides, with Joz tending the crops and the chickens, Osreel carving tables and the like, and my elderly father helping him, there was no one else free to do it.

My mother and my sisters wove beautiful, intricate rugs and carpets which were transported into a town quite a way off to be sold, along with Osreel's tables and chairs.

At the age of nine, my elder sisters had all begun assisting my mother with the weaving. The day after my ninth birthday, my mother had begun teaching me the basics of weaving. From the beginning, I had shown no promise. In fact, I was hopeless.

My stitches were uneven, too large, in the wrong place, and always the wrong colour. I often grew frustrated, and ended up tugging too hard, or wrenching it with something, ending up with a twisted, tangled and knotted mess.

My mother taught me patiently for three months, but eventually, she realised I was never going to get it, and was wasting too much wool. Instead, she taught Elsita, who was ten months younger than me, who, much to my mortification, she picked it up immeadietly.

I ended up wandering the house, getting in everyone's way. I attempted learning wood craft with my father, in the days before Osreel came along, but I was just as terrible at carving as I was at weaving.

When I was ten, my second eldest sister, Lomita married a young man named Joz. As he could not afford to buy a house and take her away like my elder sister's husband had done, my father suggested that he take charge of the farming.

He had begun to find it quite a challenge to carve, chop wood and tend the farm. I had offered, but the tools were unarguably too large for me to handle- even I had to admit to that.

Joz readiliy agreed, and this eased the pressure on my father... yet he still struggled with it all. It was taking him longer and longer to chop the wood, as the sparse trees grew sparser and sparser.

I noticed this, and volunteered immeadietly to take it over- I had just turned eleven and was ready to explode with boredom.

At first my father had refused. I remember it well. I had begged him earnestly- saying "I'm bored out of my mind, Father, please!"

But, he hated the idea that I would be alone for hours with an axe, though Joz joined my side, promising to keep an eye on me.

It had seemed then that my father would agree, for he nodded slowly... but then his gaze fell on my eager, upturned face and shook his head.

"Not that little slip of a thing! No. No. Not with an axe."

I had begged for hours, desperately, but nothing would move him. Until I asked for a trial run.

"No harm'll come to the lass, I'll make sure of that." Joz reasurred him with a smile, patting my arm affectionately.

Eventually, my father caved in, agreeing to a weeks trial.

I made it through a week, chopping about twice the amount of wood we actually neede, and was eager to do more.

My father agreed to a month, then three months, and after that I just kept going.

To be honest, I think I was the best one suited to the job, for soon after I began chopping, my sister Kessa married, and gave birth, shortly followed by Lomita.

Kessa married the boy who delievered Father's creations to the town. It had been a love at first sight match, a concept I scorned. Though I loved Kessa very much, I could not see how one's looks alone could be defined as a reason to fall in love eternally with them. Osreel- her husband- was a lovely person, it turned out, and the two of them got on in perfect harmony.

Sometimes, I still wondered how they had fallen in love so quickly, but then, I wasn't a beauty like Kess- or any of my sisters, so I had no real way of knowing.

I wasn't an eyesore, yet I was nothing remarkable. I had long hair that zigzagged in crinkles, so dark that it was more black than brown. I had large eyes that seemed to fill up most of my face. The fact that the rest of my features were small, as was my face, didn't help.

I had pale skin, and generally rosy cheeks, due to the fact that I was always outside.

My sister's were all stunning- each different, but each beautiful.

Felcina was the eldest. She had married when I was only nine and had gone to live with her husband in the town far away from our house. She had auburn hair that spiralled in ringlets and clear blue eyes, a perfect figure and wide smile. Recently, she had given birth two two little boys who had inherited her looks, but we rarely saw them as Felcina and her husband were busy socialising.

My sister Lomita was the next eldest, and she married Joz when I was ten. She had chestnut brown hair, glittering green eyes and the same creamy, pure skin as Felcina and my other sisters. Recently, she had had a baby named Betha, who had been delighting us all by screaming through the night as he teeth came through.

Kessa, my next eldest sister, and the most beautiful- she had wavy blonde hair, rosy cheeks, sparkling blue eyes and a perfect smilw. Her three year old daughter, Rebita had inherited her looks and toddled round looking effortlessly cute.

My youngest sister- Elsita, or Elsie as we all called her was also beautiful. She had hair that was a colour between Felcina's and Kess's. a sort of gingery blonde, and blue- green eyes. She was unmarried as of yet, but I fully expected her to find someone soon.

Each of my sisters were tall and slim, perfectly slim, yet I was small and skinny- smaller than Elsie, who stood a head and shoulders above me now. I was petite in a negative way.

None of my sisters had dark hair, or dark eyes, so I stuck out like a sore thumb. In any other family, I would have been ordinary, but in a beautiful family, ordinary was not good enough.

I threw three more logs into the wheelbarrow, and trundled it down to the house, my whole body tingling with the biting cold.

At last, the day's work was over.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Two

Rebita met me at the door, her blue eyes wide and clear.

"Brrr?" she asked, as I hung my coat up on it's wooden peg, amd unwound the outer layers I was wearing, leaving only my patched woolen dress on.

I nodded down at her. "Very brrr, Reb. But it's warm in here."

She smiled at me, watching carefully as I hung my axe up on it's specially created hooks, next to Father's rusty old sword and Joz's axe.

"Get any big bits, Tari?" Osreel called from the other room, hearing the front door slam shut.

"Yes." I replied weariliy, tugging off my boots, "I got a bit that would probably do you a stool."

Rebita pulled at my dress, raising her hands to be lifted up.

I stooped, and swung her up, my back protesting.

SHe shivered. "Chilly hands."

I went through to the dining room. The warmth was beautiful and I could smell the tempting aroma of meat stew that Kess was cooking over the fire.

Joz came in, plopping a few tiny potatoes into the box in the cupboard, along with three miniature carrots. I saw my mother's lip twitch, yet she said nothing.

I was about to climb the creaking stairs to my tiny room, when I passed the room my mother jokingly called our sitting room, though we never really sat in it, we slumped after a hard days work.

I couldn't resist going in to look at my favourite rug. I loved the rugs my mother and sisters created, which made it even more painful that I was incapable of creating one.

The colours were either vivid and bright, or pastel, blending perfectly into each other. Each one told it's own little story, and you could sit and stare at one for hours and still miss some small detail.

I had gazed upon my favourite rug for so long now that I could visualize it all in my mind's eye with perfect ease.

It told of the tale of Sleeping Beauty. It was one made of pastelly colours, mainly a cream coloured castle, with seventeen turrets, on for each year that the Princess had lived. The Princess herself was lying in the middle of the rug, her long, wavy blonde hair spread around her, her cheeks rosy, her eyelashes lying perfectly against her milky, blemishless skin.

Leaning over her, and pressing his lips to hers, was a tall, handsome prince that strongly resembled Osreel.

Kess had woven him in, though the rest of the rug was my mother's work.

My mother had deliberately made Kess the Princess- the resemblance was astounding. Elsie, Felcina and I were the fairies, asleep in the castle, Lomita the good fairy leading the Prince to the Princess.

There were so many hidden details- you could see tiny scenes through the arching castle windows. My mother and father were the King and Queen, asleep in their thrones, and you could glimpse the cooks sleeping with their heads pillowed on their loaves of bread, the maids curled up by the fire, snoring.

Outside, tiny animals hid in the bushes, differing from the Prince's horse to the tiny little frog perched on the lilypad- I had fondly named it Norman when I had been younger.

I knelt beside the rug, leaning forward and cupping my chin in one hand. We all looked so happy in this picture. We were rich, we were together, and we had no worries.

I gazed at it, wistfully, staring deeply into the arched castle doors that were open just a crack. Behind lay a glimpse of a scene- two dogs lay asleep on their masters (who were meant to be guarding the door) laps.

But something on the door had captured my attention. The funny little shape that looked too significant to just be part of the door. It had bothered me for weeks.

When I had quizzed my mother, she had smiled mysteriously and remained silent.

I suddenly realised there were many more, and squinting, I made out the word THE.

I refocused my eyes. Now I had seen it, it seemed so obvious.

THE MOST. I squinted some more.

OMNIPOTENT. All-powerful? I frownedand eventually found the last word. THING.

The Most Omnipotent Thing.

"Tari! Dinner!" I got up slowly in response to Kess's call.

I sat down next to my mother. "The most omnipotent thing." I murmured, almost silently.

My mother started, and then her mouth twisted into a smile.

"Indeed it is." she replied.

"What is?" I asked, quickly.

My mother smiled again, mysterious as ever, and began ladling out the stew.

She winked at me, as she splashed some into my bowl.

I was puzzled, but I guess that was what my mother had intended. She loved an enigma, especially one that could be solved in complicated ways.

This was a riddle, and I was determined to figure it out.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 3

I woke early the next morning, when the night still lingered in thesky, a slight grey flush glinting in the horizon over the tops of the trees.

I leaned on the windowsill, peering out into the dusky gardens, looking out out further and further, but all I could see was endless trees.

There were hundreds of legends about the forest, all of them as ludicrous as each other. Some suggested that it was haunted or enchanted, others were certain that it was home to some rather uncivilised pixies, who wore nothing but leaves and other plants, sewn together to make beautiful outfits.

I disregarded all the legends and fairytales- I had never experienced or seen anything amazing, so I saw no reason to believe anything existed. I believed the centaurs and unicorns that had been spotted occasionally were merely confusion and misinterpretation. In the moon light, a white horse could easily look mysterious and ethereal. All would take was an unfortunately placed twig, and a new rumour would be circling the inns in town.

And I certainly did not believe in the monsters and evil wizards. I enjoyed the stories my mother used to tell me when I was younger, as she wove rugs that represented different tales- at the moment, Kess and Elsie were working on a rug that showed Snow White and the seven dwarves. It was a story that warmed the heart, but it was obviously completely untrue. A dead princess could not be awakened with a kiss, just as Sleeping Beauty could not be awakened with a kiss after a hundred years of slumber.

But that was not the idea. Fairytales were not to be worked out logically and comprehended- they were purely for enjoyment.

The flush had crept up to the heights of the sky now, and was lighting up the forest in an eerie glow of grey.

I heard a clunk downstairs as Joz went out to feed the chickens.

It was six am, and, stretching my stiff arms and legs, I dressed into my plain green tunic, belting it with a strip of cream material. I slipped a smaller, shortsleeved blue tunic over the top- I needed as many layers as was humanly possible in these weather conditions- brushed my hair out, plaiting it all up so it wouldn't get in my way. The end reached down and tickled my back- it had grown so long in the past few years.

I padded downstairs, my bare feet slapping the wooden floor. We had lived in this house for twenty eight years, so the flooring was worn and pale in places. My father had built it when he had proposed to my mother. He had always dreamed of a career in farming, so they both left everything and moved over the hill that separated us from a long winding road that lead to the town.

A few houses had followed suit, springing up about a mile away, but most people were terrified of the forest and preferred the town with it's job oppurtunites, social gatherings and a plentiful supply of taverns.

Of course, the house had been extended slightly as more and more children and adults joined the family, so it was now a cosy size- not exactly cramped, but you could never describe it as spacious.

As the rest of my bleary eyed family stumbled down the stairs for breakfast, I slipped back the catch on the window in our kitchen and stuck my head fully out of it.

It was freezing, crisp snowflakes tumbling out of the grey sky. I could hear a couple of birds singing the morning chorus, though they perched gingerly on the limp arms of our scarecrow- none lived in the forest.

Joz came and stared out of the window with me.

"Pests, those birds." he growled, shaking his head. "That scarecrow is meant to scare them away, not provide a comfortable perch!"

I laughed at him. "Maybe the scarecrow likes their singing?" I suggested, drawing my head back through the window and shutting the wind out.

"He's got no ears!" Joz replied, in mock indignation, "He can't hear them." Ruffling my hair, which made me feel instantly half of my age, he wandered over to help Lomita with Betha, who was grizzling.

I smiled to myself, for though I had felt patronised, Joz and Osreel were like elder brothers to me. Inside, however, I longed for something more. Family life always took the same path. I woke up, ate breakfast, chopped wood, ate lunch, chopped wood, ate dinner, then went to bed.

To be sure, I'd rather do that than anything else my mother had suggested as possible tasks- I would have been bored out of my mind sewing sheets together and the like- but I longed for spice, adventure. I wanted something unexpected.

Sighing, I sat down at the table. At least I had a loving family, I consoled myself, and at least I had some sort of resemblance of a comfortable life.

But despite these thoughts, I could not help but long for a life with more excitement, and less tree chopping.


End file.
